G                 Am
The lady's adrift in a foreign land
   D                  G
Singing on issues both humble and grand
   G                 Am
A decade flew past her and there on the page
   D                  G
She read that the prince had returned to the stage

   G                 Am
Hovering near treacherous waters
   D                  G
A friend saw her drifting and caught her
   G                 Am
Unguarded fantasies flying too far
   D                  G
Memories tumbling like sweets from a jar


[Chorus 1]

    C                  G
And take me down to the harbor now
    D                  G
Grapes of the summer are low on the bough
    C                  G
Ghosts of my history will follow me there
    D                  G
And the winds of the old days will blow through my hair


[Verse 2]

   G                 Am
Breath on an undying ember
   D                  G
It doesn't take much to remember
   G                 Am
Those eloquent songs from the good old days
   D                  G
That set us to marching with banners ablaze

   G                 Am
But reporters, there's no sense in prying
   D                  G
Our blue-eyed son's been denying
   G                 Am
The truths that are wrapped in a mystery
   D                  G
The sixties are over so set him free


[Chorus 2]

    C                  G
And take me down to the harbor now
    D                  G
Grapes of the summer are low on the bough
    C                  G
Ghosts of my history will follow me there
    D                  G
And the winds of the old days will blow through my hair


[Verse 3]

   G                 Am
Why do I sit the autumnal judge?
   D                  G
Years of self-righteousness will not budge
   G                 Am
Singer or savior, it was his to choose
   D                  G
Which of us knows what was his to lose?


[Bridge]

      Am                  Bm
Because idols are best when they're made of stone
      Em                  Am
A savior's a nuisance to live with at home
      Am                  Bm
Stars often fall, heroes go unsung
      Em                  Am
And martyrs most certainly die too young


[Verse 4]

   G                 Am
So thank you for writing the best songs
   D                  G
Thank you for righting a few wrongs
   G                 Am
You're a savage gift on a wayward bus
   D                  G
But you stepped down and you sang to us


[Chorus 3]

    C                  G
And get you down to the harbor now
    D                  G
Most of the sour grapes are gone from the bough
    C                  G
Ghosts of Johanna will visit you there
    D                  G
And the winds of the old days will blow through your hair